From the Hills, From the Sky
by Iwaveatyou87
Summary: It was supposed to have been incredibly simple, but, like most things concerning the Vongola, it had not gone as expected. Very light slash. Rated T for mentions of violence.


Disclaimer TO THE EXTREME: No, they're not mine (unfortunately; otherwise, the anime series wouldn't have ended). They belong to Amano Akira, because only she can come up with such fantastic and unexpected plot twists.  
Oh, and dear Mafia Family whose name I used, please don't come and dispose of me in the middle of the night anytime soon (or ever). Thank you.

Also, thank you to my beautiful _beautiful_ beta, PhantomMusic13, for helping me figure out an ending and making sure this monstrosity actually made sense to other people who weren't just me.

Enjoy, kids.

* * *

The clouds, drifting in lazy lines over the horizon, were tinted with shades of crimson and honey and amethyst, beautiful gradients of the warmer side of the color spectrum. Divine rays of early sunlight burst through the swirls, skimming the tops of the trees and creeping through the windows of the houses scattered beneath them. Birds fluttered from the foliage in clusters, silhouetted against the sunrise.

And then the alarm went off, loud and shrill and angry, shattering the fragile tranquility that had been the almost-morning.

A hand shot out from under the covers, hitting the bedside table several times before it finally lighted on the alarm and abruptly stopped the beeping. The Vongola Decimo opened one eye, glanced at the time, and cursed.

Loudly.

It was far too frustrating for it to be healthy, really, that he should have to wake up so early and do all this fucking paperwork.

It was supposed to have been incredibly simple, but, like most things concerning the Vongola, it had not gone as expected. Negotiations with one of the Famiglias on the verge of alliance, the Lucchese, had turned sour, erupted into a full-scale kill-or-be-killed I-hope-to-God-we-all-make-it-out-of-this-alive fight, lasted for three and a half days, and ended only when the Lucchese boss had been killed (or, rather, had been burnt almost beyond recognition by a combined effort from Lambo and Gokudera, who at that point had been cooped up and fighting for far too long to have had much of their sanity left, let alone any restraint to exercise). It had been an incredibly close shave, but they had managed to walk away from the ambush relatively unscathed, although there had been some buzz about someone having lost a _finger_, of all things, in the fray. Tsuna thought it might have been Ryohei, but he wasn't sure. Then again, the man was so damn _extreme_ that Tsuna wasn't entirely sure whether or not he was actually indestructible. Or made of nothing but steel and fiberglass. Or immortal.

Probably all three.

Either way, the point was that after three and a half days of nonstop battle in which all of them could have very easily lost their lives, a rough trip home in which several of them lost a few more pints of blood from wounds that probably should have been fatal, and barely two hours of fitful sleep in which he dreamed the whole thing over again, Sawada Tsunayoshi had to get up and write a fucking report about the whole damn thing.

He was the boss of the Vongola, for crying out loud. The _BOSS_ of the ridiculously powerful and highly influential _VONGOLA FAMIGLIA_. _WHICH WAS IN THE MAFIA_._ HE WAS A **MAFIA BOSS**_. He shouldn't have to be writing reports for anyone. There shouldn't have been a higher power that he should have to write reports _for_. Why the hell was he writing the damn report, anyway?

Oh, but of course.

_Reborn_.

Though he'd never made very good grades in school (his test scores had averaged out to a 17.5, for a year or two, so imagine his surprise when his future career ended up consisting mainly of paperwork and strategics), Tsuna was no idiot; he was certainly intelligent enough to realize the incredible impact that Reborn had made on his life. Really, at this point, it was difficult to remember a time without the Arcobaleno. Reborn was the one who gave Tsuna self-confidence, who helped him make the steadfast friends in school that would later become the very foundation of his Famiglia, who showed him who he really was and who he really could be. In fact, at times, Reborn was absolutely the best thing that had ever happened to him.

But at other times, Reborn could be quite the demanding little son of a bitch.

Like_ now_, for instance.

Tsuna was still cursing under his breath as he dragged himself to the door of his office and wrenched it open so violently that one of the hinges was ripped from the frame.

"Nice to see you up bright and early, Tsuna," someone chirped from the direction of his desk, and Tsuna whipped around only to come face to face with none other than the resident Arcobaleno himself.

He grit his teeth and clenched his fists in an effort to keep from leaping forward and strangling his former tutor, instead managing a clipped and ragged "_Reborn_" through his teeth; he didn't trust himself to say anything more than that and still be relatively civil at the same time. A fight between them (which, if he started, Reborn would always be more than happy to finish) would most definitely not end well for either party, at this point.

"I'll leave you to your report, then," Reborn said, after a long moment that was almost tangibly tense. He sounded far too chipper for this early in the morning - but then, he hadn't been with them when those godforsaken negotiations fell through, so Tsuna supposed that he'd actually gotten a decent amount of sleep, the selfish bastard. He started for the door, aiming a kick at Tsuna's shins in the process. "Remember to be as detailed as possible, Dame-Tsuna. And don't forget to fix that door - I believe it's come off of one of it's hinges."

Tsuna closed his eyes then, counting backwards from ten and releasing his breath slowly in a technique Haru had offered up to him the last time they'd had lunch together, and didn't trust himself to move until both his hearing and his Hyper-Intuition agreed that Reborn was out of the vicinity.

When he did relax, however, opening his eyes and wrenching his teeth apart and unclenching his fists, there were spots of blood welling up in eight tiny crescent-shaped cuts on the palms of his hands, four on each, and Tsuna outwardly cringed as he realized those were from his own nails.

Reborn couldn't possibly be good for his blood pressure.

Muttering darkly under his breath, Tsuna limped over to his desk and sat down gingerly in his chair. For a moment, he stared bleakly at his keyboard, mentally weighing his options. Deciding that he really only had two choices (he could either kill himself or write the report, essentially) and that one of them was at this point mere wishful thinking (because really, what good would dying do now when he'd so recently fought for three days straight to stay alive?), he sighed and began to type.

"Tenth?"

Tsuna shot straight up, eyes wide and blinking rapidly and arms held protectively over his face as the keys for the letters 'D', 'Y', and 'N' fell from where they'd adhered to his cheek and temple.

A tall figure, standing silhouetted in the doorway, held out a hand and stepped slowly across the threshold and into the visible light. "Are you...?"

"Gokudera-kun," Tsuna breathed, slowly letting his arms sink back down to his lap. "How can I help you? Sorry. What?"

"Were you asleep, Tenth?" the bomber asked, still holding his hand out protectively and advancing very slowly, as if afraid he might startle a particularly skittish animal.

"Was I? I suppose I was," Tsuna said sheepishly, now fully awake. He stretched. "Sorry, Gokudera-kun. It's okay - you just scared me, that's all."

Halfway across the room, Gokudera dropped his hand but didn't quicken his pace. "I didn't mean to wake you, Tenth," he said guiltily.

"No, no, it's really all right," Tsuna assured him quickly. "I don't even know when I fell asleep. It's a good thing you found me before Reborn did, actually." He yawned, covering his mouth with one hand as he checked his wristwatch with the other. "It's not even eight o'clock yet. Why are you up so early?"

"I couldn't sleep," Gokudera mumbled, and suddenly there were lines on his face and dark circles under his eyes that Tsuna hadn't quite noticed before. A cold wave of guilt washed over him, and he opened his mouth to say something, but Gokudera spoke again before he could voice his concerns.

"What are _you_ doing up this early, Tenth?"

"I have to write a report for Reborn," Tsuna said, not too concerned with keeping any of the bitterness out of his voice, which was good, because there was suddenly a _lot_ of it. "He wants it by noon."

"I see." Gokudera was silent a moment, shifting his weight from foot to foot and looking as though he wanted to ask several things at once. Tsuna opened his mouth to ask what was on his mind...but something in his expression, the way his brow was furrowed and his shoulders sort of hunched, made Tsuna look anywhere-but-Gokudera and scramble for something to occupy his hands with.

Finally, the bomber spoke. "How far have you gotten?"

"What?"

"In your report. How far have you gotten?"

Tsuna, who had by this time latched onto the task of attempting to put the 'D' key back on his keyboard, glanced up at his monitor. "Seven and a half pages of nothing but the letter 'H'." He chuckled, snapping the key back into place. "I must have hit it when I fell asleep."

"Oh." There was another moment of silence. "Is there anything I can be of any assistance with?"

Tsuna picked up the 'N' key and rotated it in his fingers for a moment. "Possibly. Come back in a few hours, Gokudera-kun. I should have the basic outline for the report by then. I'll probably need help remembering some of the important finer details."

"All right."

But Gokudera did not move from where he stood, didn't make any kid of motion even indicating that he was going to leave, and after a full two minutes in which he managed to pop both the 'N' and the 'Y' keys back into place on his keyboard, Tsuna looked up and met Gokudera's eyes. "Goku..."

The words died on his lips.

He had fully intended to ask his Storm Guardian what was wrong, but for some reason, he could barely even _breathe_ looking at Gokudera, let alone speak. Perhaps it was the way he was standing, stock still and slightly stooped, almost as if he were _afraid_ to move. Perhaps it was the way he was looking at him, green eyes wide and open and more vulnerable than Tsuna remembered seeing them in a very long time. Perhaps...perhaps...per...

Perhaps he would let Gokudera talk to him on his own.

"Um." Tsuna cleared his throat, wondered what to do with his hands, concentrated on remembering how to form coherent speech. "Actually...actually, why don't you stay with me for a while, Gokudera-kun?" he managed to ask when he finally found his voice again.

Gokudera blinked, nodded, seemed to suddenly recall how to move. "Yeah, okay. If that is what the Tenth wishes."

"It is," Tsuna murmured, watching his Storm Guardian move to sit down on the couch near the window. "I do wish it."

And watching the way Gokudera sat down on the couch, relief clearly evident in every movement he made, something inside him was glad he hadn't pressed the issue.

There was another pause in their conversation, and suddenly Tsuna was all too aware of the silence, tangibly sitting between the two of them like a lead weight. He shook his head, scrambling to find something, _anything_, to ask. "S-so, Gokudera-kun," he said, inwardly cringing at how loud his voice had suddenly become and hoping that Gokudera, staring at him from across the room, wouldn't notice, "Do you remember...remember the exact time at which the negotiations started?"

A startled look flashed over his face, but Gokudera recovered quickly. "Er...I think it was at 2:15 in the afternoon. Yes, definitely. Remember, the Lucchese had proposed something much earlier, but Hibari's plane didn't get in until 1:45, so we pushed it back."

"Of course, of course," Tsuna muttered absently, fingers already skittering over the keys as he filled in the first of many blanks on his report. "Couldn't have remembered that for the life of me."

"I have a knack for remembering things like times and dates," Gokudera said with a modest little shrug. "Besides, it makes sense that you wouldn't be able to remember a trivial thing like the time at which the negotiations started, since most of what happened after that consisted of us trying not to get killed."

Tsuna heard the chuckle escape him before he realized that what Gokudera said probably wasn't meant to be funny.

He quickly covered his mouth with his palm, stopping the laughter before it could get too far out of hand, and peeked apologetically over the screen of his computer at the bomber, who looked slightly taken aback. "Sorry," he said, but the word was swallowed in another laugh, and he covered his mouth again and concentrated on not being completely unprofessional in the face of something this important.

But suddenly there was a chuckle from across the room which Tsuna registered as not-his-own, and he peered over his computer screen again to find Gokudera laughing, too, the sound of it easy and relieved and remarkably comforting. Tsuna grinned at him, letting out the giggles that he hadn't been able to suppress, and watched the tension in the room melt away.

"Sorry, Gokudera-kun," he said again, poising his fingers over his keyboard as they managed to stop laughing. "I don't know what got into me just then..."

Gokudera beamed at him. "It's all right, Tenth. What else can I help you with?"

After that, things became about a million times easier. They meticulously dissected the entire affair, from start to finish - although, while Tsuna took great care to ask Gokudera about every detail he wasn't absolutely certain of and most of the ones he was, he was also careful to stay away from questions about the things that may have made the bomber uncomfortable, considering how recently some of the more harrowing events had taken place.

However, even without inquiring about a few of the hairier details, they managed to finish most of the report within the better part of an hour. Tsuna glanced at his watch one more time, just to be sure, and typed out the last few descriptive details of the Lucchese boss' death (this, of course, was one of the things Tsuna had refrained from asking about, due not only to the significant amount of personal involvement for Gokudera, but also to the fact that _every single detail_ about those moments in which his Storm and Lightning Guardians had gone from protectors and defenders to half-manic killing machines were ingrained disturbingly clearly into his mind).

Removing all personal attachment from the matter for the moment (something, as a Mafia boss, he had gotten alarmingly good at over the years), he finished writing and looked up once more at Gokudera, who, while Tsuna had been preoccupied with typing, had turned to stare out the window over the couch and was currently watching a large flock of birds make its way across the sky.

"All right, that's about everything," Tsuna said, smiling at his right hand when he looked away from the window and met his eyes. He glanced back at the computer screen, scrolling back through the document and checking for holes in his report. "All that's left is the damage report for our side."

"No one died," Gokudera said absently, stretching his legs out and not giving voice to the unspoken '_this time_' that lingered ominously in the air after his statement.

"That's always a good thing," Tsuna muttered for the sake of something to say, rephrasing as he typed. "How many injured?"

"Let's see," the bomber said pensively, mentally ticking the number off on his fingers. "All of the Guardians sustained some sort of injury, I believe. Add that to the number of guards we had stationed around the manor who were caught in the line of fire, and...the total count is ten, I think." He held up the final amount on his fingers, as if asking for verification. "That is, assuming you weren't injured as well, Tenth."

"Not so much that it's worth mentioning," Tsuna said nonchalantly, waving off the panicked expression he knew Gokudera would be wearing without even having to look up. His fingers clicked over the keys. "Injury report? I remember most of them, but I'm a little hazy on the details of some, especially Lambo's and Chrome's."

"The stupid cow took a bullet to the shoulder," Gokudera said flatly, and Tsuna looked up in time to watch his eyes go dull and expressionless. "He also sustained some chest and leg injuries, as well as a broken wrist and nose." There was no emotion in his eyes or voice, no expression - nothing that could give away how he was actually feeling. Gokudera had always been good at removing himself from an emotionally painful situation - he'd had to be, what with his background and childhood, not to mention the whole Bianchi thing had gotten incredibly inconvenient after a while and _no one_ could realistically be expected to wear a ski mask for the rest of their lives - but Tsuna still felt his stomach drop every time. He idly wondered if his own eyes looked as lifeless when he separated himself from his emotions, but managed to shake it off, instead concentrating on recording the information that Gokudera had provided him with.

"And Chrome?" he asked.

"Not entirely sure. Mukuro took over halfway through, and he also got them home, but I...um," Gokudera suddenly looked incredibly sheepish and very, very small, "I l-lost consciousness before I could find out what happened to her."

"Oh." Tsuna felt the tension begin creeping unbidden back into the room, and desperately tried to keep it at bay. "That's all right, Gokudera-kun. You were injured, too. Everyone was. Please, don't beat yourself up about it." He typed in what information the bomber could provide him with and mentally resolved that if Reborn wanted any more, he could very well go find out for himself. "Speaking of which," he added softly, "how's your back?"

Gokudera's expression went from sheepish to bitter in a matter of seconds. "Sneaky Lucchese bastard," he groused, rolling his shoulder as if the mere mention of the injury had stirred up some forgotten pain. "Fucking underhanded son of a bitch, stabbing me in the back. I couldn't even believe it. Motherfucker deserved what he got."

The sheer amount of flippant irritation with which Gokudera spoke of what had been a pretty serious injury made Tsuna smile despite himself. "Well, this _is_ the Mafia, after all. You can't seriously expect everyone to play by the rules."

"_Yeah_," Gokudera growled at the floor, twisting his hands, "but fighting dirty is just plain wrong, and now my back hurts like a _bitch_."

Tsuna's grin widened as he typed in the last few letters of the injury reports, and he sat back in his chair before he remembered something rather important. "Oh! Gokudera-kun, before I forget, did I hear something on the way home about someone losing a finger?"

Gokudera chuckled dryly, looking up. "You did. Turf-head lost his ring finger to the Lucchese boss."

Well. That must have been why it stuck out so much in his memory, then. In fact...in fact, that was actually really, _really_ bad, because without a ring finger...

"_Can he still wear his ring_?" Tsuna asked, trying and failing to keep a generous helping of panic from seeping into his voice.

His right hand blinked. "Probably. He'll figure something out, I'm sure. I mean," Gokudera paused, his volume suddenly much lower, and he leaned in confidentially towards Tsuna from all the way across the room, "the man's so damn _extreme_ that half the time, I wonder if he's actually indestructible."

Tsuna stared. "Or made of nothing but things like steel and fiberglass."

"Or _fucking__ immortal_," Gokudera said seriously, eyes wide and sincere.

So Tsuna wasn't the only one with those suspicions, then. Good to know. "Probably all three."

"Probably," Gokudera agreed solemnly. "Anyway, he was in better shape than most of the rest of us were when we finally made it out of that hellhole, all things considered - he carried Lambo half of the way back after the stupid cow passed out from blood loss - so I don't think the injury's going to be much of a problem for him."

Tsuna nodded hesitantly, typing out a few more sentences and hitting the 'save' button. "I think I'll go check on him later, though," he said, reassuring himself more than the Storm Guardian across from him. "Just to make sure."

"Excellent idea," Gokudera said approvingly. He stood up and stretched, raising one arm and tugging at the collar of his shirt with the other, and made a move towards the door.

"Wait, Gokudera-kun," Tsuna heard himself say, before the Storm Guardian had opportunity to take even three steps towards the exit. The man in question stopped short and turned around expectantly, and Tsuna cleared his throat. "Er...thank you for your help with the report. I really couldn't have done it without you."

Gokudera looked faintly bemused. "You're very welcome, Tenth. You know I'm always more than happy to assist you, any time."

"I do," Tsuna said, standing up from his desk and finding his footing on his train of thought. "And it's only fair that I should return the favor." He paused, searching the bomber's face from across the room, the lines on his face and dark circles under his eyes that had temporarily disappeared with their easy conversation becoming apparent once again. "Gokudera-kun...there's something that's been bothering you."

It wasn't an accusation so much as an observation, but Tsuna could feel Gokudera shutting himself off anyway. "I'm fine," he said mildly.

"You're not," the Vongola Tenth persisted. "After as many years as we've known each other, I should think I'd be able to tell when something's wrong."

"Nothing's wrong," Gokudera countered, tone still vaguely impassive. He smiled; it didn't quite reach his eyes. "I'm fine, Tenth, really."

"Gokudera-kun, please don't shut me out." Tsuna took a few steps closer to his Storm Guardian, whose smile had faded as quickly as it had appeared. "You and I both know there's something bothering you. I didn't say anything when I noticed it earlier -"

"You noticed it earlier?" Gokudera asked, looking for all the world like he'd just been told Christmas was canceled.

But Tsuna nodded anyway. "Of _course_ I noticed it earlier. I didn't exactly need Hyper-Intuition to figure out that something was off. I'd hoped you might say something to me on your own, but..." He trailed off, shrugged, stepped closer still. "Please, Gokudera-kun. Talk to me. What's been bothering you?"

For someone who, mere moments before, had looked so incredibly disheartened, Gokudera's face was suddenly impressively blank. "It...I couldn't..."

In three more steps, Tsuna had crossed the remainder of the distance between them, taken Gokudera gently by the arm, and sat him back down on the couch. He settled himself next to his Storm and sat back, waiting, his face an open invitation for conversation.

"I..." Gokudera's voice was uncharacteristically quiet, and he twisted his fingers together in something of a nervous gesture. "I didn't sleep very well last night. It...the...when we were..."

Tsuna watched as he ground his teeth together and closed his eyes, searching for the beginning of the thought.

"My...it's...the stupid cow," he finally finished, voice so small that Tsuna very nearly missed it.

"Lambo?" he asked gently, trying not to let too much of the confusion into his voice. "What about him?"

And then when Gokudera finally looked at him, there was so much raw emotion in his eyes that Tsuna felt his heart break into a million pieces. "You weren't there, in the beginning," he murmured. "You didn't see what that bastard did to him, before the rest of us got there...before _I_ could get there...and..." He trailed off, teeth clenched as tightly as his fists. "And when I finally got there, I couldn't get in because the door was locked and it was hot,_ so_ hot, like there was fire coming from the inside, and it smelled like burning _everything_ and I could hear him screaming and fighting and _losing_, and when I finally broke down the door, he was just lying there, broken and bleeding and burning, and his chest and his legs were covered in burns and slashes and _how could he have been so stupid_, to try and take on the fucking _boss_ without any backup, the _idiot_ -"

Without any warning, his clenched fist swung out and slammed into the wall next to the couch full-force. "And I couldn't look away until the gunshot sounded, but when I finally looked up and saw the bastard with the gun aimed straight at me, it was too late, but the damn cow..."

"Lambo took that bullet for you," Tsuna said softly, eyes wide with realization.

"_He could have fucking died_," Gokudera snarled, snapping his head up to catch Tsuna's gaze dead-on; his eyes were shining with tears that pride kept him from shedding. "He could have _died_, throwing himself in front of that bullet like he did, and it would have been _all my fault_."

Tsuna reached for Gokudera's hand, which was still clenched in a fist so tight that his knuckles were white, and held it close to his heart with both of his own. "Gokudera-kun..."

"I lost it," he said quietly. "Completely lost it. I don't even remember what I did, but when I was done..."

He didn't need to finish. Tsuna remembered very clearly what Gokudera had done to the Lucchese boss.

By the time he'd finally stopped firing, there had been very little left to identify.

"Gokudera-kun," Tsuna said again, "you...no wonder you didn't sleep much." He sighed, shifting closer and keeping his eyes locked on his Guardian's. "But you, of all people, should know you can't keep holding onto things like this."

"I know," Gokudera muttered, voice swollen with anger and bitterness and something else that Tsuna couldn't quite place. "I know. But the stupid cow...I can't..._why_ would he -"

"Because Lambo is as much of a part of this Family as any of the rest of us," Tsuna said, voice soft and stern and sympathetic all at once. "And that means that he has the right to fight just as much as the rest of us. In fact, he fights twice as hard as any of the rest of us do."

"How can you be okay with this, Tenth?" Gokudera asked, voice breaking. "He's so young -"

"He's older than we were when we fought Xanxus or Byakuran or any of them," Tsuna interrupted sharply. "He's sixteen, Gokudera-kun. As much as I want to keep him safe, as much as I hate sending him off to battles where the outcome is so uncertain _all the time_..." He stopped short and took a breath, trying to keep himself from getting too carried away. "I'm not 'okay with this', Gokudera-kun. I'm not okay with any of this. I have never been okay with it. I hate sending Lambo out on missions just as much as I hate sending _you_; just as much as I hate sending _any_ of you. Every minute one of your lives could be in danger, every time I lose contact with one of you, every time you come back injured and broken or, even worse, _successful_ in carrying out a hit or a mission...every time reminds me of how completely helpless I am to protect you and your happiness and your innocence."

Gokudera stared, eyes still glittering with emotion. "T-Tenth..."

"But you can't protect them forever, Gokudera-kun," Tsuna whispered, heart aching. "I know. I learned that the hard way."

He watched the last wall behind Gokudera's eyes come crumbling down as he reached for him, wrapping his arms around his Storm Guardian and holding him close (he wished with every fiber of his being that he could keep him this close and this safe forever and tried not to think about the things that happened during the times when he couldn't). He could feel Gokudera stiffen reflexively at the contact, but after a moment he relaxed again, leaned into Tsuna's embrace, let his head rest against the other's.

They stayed like that for a long time, the minutes that drifted lazily by accented with the steady sound of Gokudera's breathing and peppered every so often with a chaste kiss to his collarbone, soft and dry and weighty with emotion, because Tsuna yearned desperately to give Gokudera some kind of tangible reassurance that everything would be all right in the end, that everything would work out for the best, that he'd always be there to fight to protect him, and it was only when he found himself fighting to keep his eyes open that he realized Gokudera had fallen asleep.

Tsuna pressed one last kiss to his shoulder before finally giving in and closing his eyes, letting the pull of sleep and the presence of his right hand man sweep him down into dreams in which nothing would be lurking or in the darkness or skulking behind the shadows and which held no threat of danger, not this time.

They kept each other's nightmares at bay and only woke up when the moon rose.

* * *

_Damn_, this is long. Rarely do I have the patience to work on something for more than a week, but this time, I have persevered. This sucker took me a little over four months to write. I'd say it was pretty well worth it, though.

And I didn't even cheat this time. Gokudera was actually largely involved in this one. :D

There isn't nearly enough lovin' in the end, though, as was so thoughtfully (read: _rabidly_) expressed to me by the lovely and talented PhantomMusic13. Solution: give me enough reviews and I'll give you a sequel. And also probably a cookie. But, until then, here's something wonderful to tide you over: .net/s/6681368/1/Blood_of_the_Faithful. Enjoy.

By the way, just in case we're still unclear on the matter - I _am_ actually convinced that Ryohei is either a) indestructible, b) made of nothing but steel and fiberglass, c) immortal, or d) all of the above.

Probably d.


End file.
